Tempest Time Bomb
by Leftomaniac
Summary: :::It's FINISHED! Look inside for sequel information!::: A policeman, two more bodies, and some late night conversations. (Crosses over: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac/Willard/Carrie/Donnie Darko/Psycho/Dracula/Intensity)
1. Oh God, Run!

A few of the world's most beloved sociopaths share a boarding house. Essentially an experiment on what happens when you have several interesting, volatile, violent and often contradictory personalities forced to coexist. True enough, that's the philosophy behind reality shows, (shudder,) but instead of bored yuppies and bland college students, I've brought together a menagerie of endearing, brain addled misfits. Fictional book, movie and comic book stars running the gambit from the utterly deranged, to those who have simply been pushed to far. Hilarity and homicide is sure to ensue!  
  
I'm aware most of these folks are technically dead, but they're fictional too and that didn't stop me. This chapter is really just a prologue, the real action won't start until the next one. I don't own anyone but Joe-Bob and Bobby-Joe. They were originally intended for mere exposition, but they went and developed personalities when I wasn't looking.  
  
Welcome to the Madhouse.  
  
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"I knew we should have never gone into this business..." Joe-Bob said to his girlfriend Bobby-Jo, co-owner of the Raunchy Horse Boarding Home.  
  
"These people all need a place to stay, and they paid in cash." Bobby-Jo reasoned, "What's the problem?"  
  
"The problem?" Joe-Bob practically screeched. His eyes widened and his mouth formed a peanut shape, betraying a hint of anime ancestry which drove Bobby-Jo wild. "Well, for a start, I'm at least ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine, nine, nine, nine percent certain most of these people are on the run from the law!"  
  
"Look, I may just be a simple country girl-"  
  
"You're from Seattle."  
  
" -But I reckon that we all make a few little mistakes in our time- "  
  
"That girl in the prom dress kept dripping blood on the floor."  
  
" -And I'm not the type to pass judgment on others."  
  
"Two of them remarked there was plenty of space in the cellar for dumping-" he raised both hands and made exaggerated quotation marks " '-toast.' "  
  
"And is that the only reason you can give me why I should throw these good people out on the street?"  
  
Joe-Bob gave her a look that suggested some nonessential section of his brain had just exploded. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. With graceless speed, he thrust his hands down and grabbed the squirming rodent, holding it up by it's tail for Bobby-Jo to see. "How about this? These damn things are everywhere now!"  
  
"Mr. Stiles asked if pets were okay and you told him yes."  
  
"I thought he meant a dog or an iguana or something!"  
  
"You should have asked him, then."  
  
"When you tell someone you have a 'pet,' it's expected they'll assume you *don't* mean hundreds and hundreds of rats!" He discovered that he was suddenly soaking wet. An oversized bead of sweat had somehow collected above his head and burst. "Not again..." he moaned.  
  
"Sweetie," Bobby-Jo said soothingly, endeared and slightly aroused by his sweatdrop, "you're an angel, but you get so worked up over nothing. Now, I've got to go bring Mr. Renfield up his lunch."  
  
"Can't he catch it himself?"  
  
Bobby-Jo rolled her eyes. "You're hilarious, dear." She said with affectionate sarcasm. "Now why don't you go take a nice, hot shower, wash that sweat out of your hair. I'm sure you'll feel better after."  
  
Joe-Bob grumbled, then relented at the sight of his lover's too-wide smile. He stalked off to the bathroom. "This'll all end in tears, mark my words!" But Bobby-Jo barely heard him, having spun on the heels of her massive platform shoes and trotted off to the kitchen, where she deftly removed a tray from the refrigerator and began carting it away. As the clip-clop of her shoes on the wooden floor faded into the distance, Joe-Bob disrobed and stepped in the shower, only to have three rats leap out of the stall at him. "Yaaaaaaaargh!" he screamed, inaudible through the bathroom door.  
  
Meanwhile, Bobby-Joe walked through the hallway which led to the stairs, humming showtunes. The plate and silverware clinking together with each step she made. As she passed room 13, she paused and knocked on the door. It opened very slightly, with disturbing haste, as if the man standing behind it had been waiting there all along. "Can... uh, can I help you?" a soft, nervous voice came from behind it. The voice belonged to a tall, pale, dark-suited man who seemed to be fidgeting even when he wasn't.  
  
"Hey there, Mr. Stiles. Listen, I don't want to be a broken record, but you should really try and keep your rats out of the rest of the house."  
  
There was uncomfortable shifting on the other side of the door. "I know... and- and I'm sorry, but..." he stuttered, "you know they- they don't always do what I say..." he trailed off.  
  
"I understand," she said, smiling like a telemarketer, "But just try, okay? At least keep an eye on the big one, Joey's been complaining he'd wake up and it'd be staring at him. You know how he is about that kind of thing."  
  
"Yeah..." Willard said distantly, fingering the scars on his face. "Yeah. The big one." He snapped back into reality. "I'll try, Miss... uh... Miss Bobby-Jo."  
  
"Super!" she said, with another fake smile that would have her shot in some of the more civilized dimensions. Turning, she decided to go down the hall to check on the border in room 666.   
  
"My..." she said to herself, as if just realizing it. "We certainly have an odd numbering system in this place..." She knocked on the door, which unlocked itself and opened slowly, revealing to her the teenaged girl who was sitting on the bed across the room. Bobby-Jo seemed unfazed by the fact that the door seemed to have opened all on it's own, and doggedly plastered on another smile, greeting the young girl. "How are you doing?"  
  
The wide-eyed blonde teenager was dressed conservatively, in a formal white blouse and a long, grey skirt with stockings, despite the heat. She turned off the Bob Dylan CD she'd been playing and addressed Bobby-Jo. "Fine, really, just fine. How are you?"  
  
"A little concerned. I mean, you're still a minor, and..."  
  
"I can take care of myself." she said simply.  
  
Bobby-Jo smiled. "I know. And I'm not really worried about that, it's just-"  
  
"Hey there, Bobby-Jo." A suave voice came from behind her ear. Bobby-Jo turned to see a poster-boy pretty face, adorned with a smug, suggestive smile.  
  
"Edgler." She said coldly. There was an unnerving glint in his powder-blue eyes that would have been undetectable to most, and terrifying to the rest.  
  
"You know, there's a broken pipe in my room. I was wondering when you were going to fix it." By the tone of his voice, he might have been asking her to dinner. But she was wise to him.   
  
"I'll call a plumber to take care of it."  
  
Edgler shook his head, dropping the issue and the facade along with it. "Never mind. Those plumbing companies ask too many questions."   
  
She nudged past him, noticing his nostrils expand as he sniffed her hair. "Jerk." she muttered. As she made for the stairs, she noticed him turn his attentions to the girl inside room 666.   
  
"Carrie," he said, his tone carefully crafted, "Has anyone ever told you that you're beautiful?"  
  
"Once." she said, with quiet regret.  
  
His voice faded into the background as he said, "You're not like all the other girls, are you? You're special..." Bobby-Jo shook her head with contempt. She felt uncertain about leaving Carrie there with him. But the girl seemed to shy to accept his advances. Bobby-Jo could always check on her again after dropping off Mr. Renfield's tray. The stairs creaked as she stomped up them. When she finally reached his room, she heard screams coming from across the hall. "No rest for the wicked..." she sighed, moving to see what was the matter in room 777.  
  
She knocked, ignoring the ominous sign on the door warning her not to, and it opened. "Yes?" came a curt voice.  
  
"Was that you screaming?" Without realizing it, she had emphasized the word 'you,' and the impossibly tall, thin man looked at her with suspicion.  
  
"What are you implying?" he asked.  
  
"I was worried. I thought maybe you'd hurt yourself or something."  
  
"I don't do that sort of thing."  
  
She looked puzzled for a moment, then her eyes filled with realization. "No, no," she chuckled, "I meant accidentally."  
  
"You... you really care?" he said with mild amazement.  
  
"Well yeah, I'm liable after all." She said with a smile.  
  
"Ah." he looked disappointed. "Well, I assure you I'm fine. I was just talking with..." he paused. "I have to go now." he began to close the door.  
  
"All right, have a good afternoon, Mr. C!" she called as the door closed.  
  
"It's Johnny. Or, well..." he gave her an appraising look, as if going over all things, both kind and unkind she had said to him since he showed up just a few days ago. "I suppose you might as well call me Nny." The door closed.  
  
Fairly certain she had just had a positive experience, Bobby-Jo whistled as she finally approached her destination: room 1313. The door opened as she knocked on it, unlocked and ajar. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows, and in the dim light, the disturbed-looking man's eyes had an eerie reflective quality, like a cat's only not as much. "Yes?" he said in a voice worthy of Gollum, covering whatever was wriggling in his palm.  
  
"I..." Her eyes kept straying to his cupped hands. "I brought up your lunch." Her smile this time was modest, since her lips were getting chapped.  
  
Renfield's voice had an airy, gasping, almost hissing quality. "It must be a mistake. I didn't ask for anything." he made further, ineffective attempts to hide his hands. Suddenly his previously friendly, if creepy, tone was replaced by something angry and arrogant. "Is that why you came here? Can't you do anything right?! Can't anybody?"  
  
Bobby-Jo held up her hand in a placating manner. Even after spending no more than a day with him, she knew this was very much her cue to exit if she didn't want a scar on her wrist. "I'm gone." she said, backing out of the room. She examined a piece of paper on the tray. "What a ditz I am!" she exclaimed, "This tray wasn't supposed to go to room 1313! It was supposed to go to room 131313! That sounds really stupid when I say it out loud." Sighing with relief, she opened the door at the end of the hallway. "Donnie? You in there?"  
  
The lanky teenaged boy tore his gaze from the window he had been staring out of. "Huh? Yeah?" he asked, his voice hoarse.  
  
Bobby-Jo shook the tray. "Food. Come on, get it while it's still cold."  
  
"Oh, thanks." he said, smiling earnestly and accepting the tray. "I forgot that you were bringing it."  
  
"Well, I almost did too. I was supposed to bring it up to room 131313, but I brought it to room 1313 instead."  
  
"That sounds really stupid when you say it out loud." Donnie observed.  
  
Bobby-Jo cracked one last aquafresh smile, "Yeah, tell me about it. So, are you enjoying your accommodations? No problems?"  
  
"Uh-huh." He suddenly seemed distracted.  
  
"That's good. You know, you aren't the only adolescent in this building, and I really feel like I should look out for you." she winked smarmily, "Maybe even keep an *eye* on you two, you know?"  
  
"Uh-huh." He replied flatly. Bobby-Jo slowly noticed he was looking slightly to the left of her. "Uh-huh." he repeated.  
  
"Well, Donnie!" she practically shouted. His attention returned to her. "I'll see you later." She swiveled and walked back down the hall, her jaw aching from the smiles.  
  
Donnie held the tray and stared into a space slightly to the left of where she had been standing, then shook his head and went into his room.  
  
Downstairs, while all this was happening, Joe-Bob had perhaps the worst shower of his life, if one were to keep track of these things. After the rat incident, the hot water had been gone. What's more, the meager amount of steam he *did* manage to get up left the words "Evil," "666," "Vote Republican," and other cryptic, devilish inscriptions in the mirror. This sort of thing had been happening a lot ever since their current group of borders had shown up, one by one, over the last few days. He had just replaced his clothing and was walking to the den when the doorbell rang.  
  
"What now?" he all but whimpered. He opened the door to see a man with dark eyes and a soft, angular face.  
  
"Hi." The man said, smiling up at him genially. "My name's Norman. I've come about the Help Wanted ad?" 


	2. These Are Eventful Days

Whee, chapter two! Had a lot of fun writing this one. I also used up all my will power by NOT having Norman cry: "This is a job for... Psychoman!" thereafter racing into a nearby closet and running back out in the infamous dress and wig. You have no idea how hard it was not to put that in. You all THINK you know, but you lie to yourselves. Liiiiiiiies, filthy lies.  
  
Right, then. I haven't gained ownership of anything since the last chapter. Enjoy.  
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Within a few minutes, Joe-Bob, Bobby-Jo and Norman were all drinking coffee and sitting in the den, with a casual sense of professionalism. "Do you have much experience in this business?" Bobby-Jo asked.  
  
"Well, I ran and managed my own hotel for the better part of my life," he said confidently. "So, yes."  
  
Joe-Bob was filled with a suspicion that was perfectly reasonable, considering the sort of people he and Bobby-Jo had been attracting lately. "And what made you leave that hotel?"  
  
Norman froze, then waved his hand dismissivly. "Oh, well, you know how things are in the hotel business these days."  
  
"No, I don't know, *tell* me how things are in the hotel business these days." Joe-Bob said condescendingly.  
  
"Well, I-" he chuckled nervously, "I just, you know, had to close it down. There were rats in it. You know how it is..." He pretended not to notice that a fairly large rat had climbed up onto his chair while he was saying that. "It's really not that important."  
  
"If it's not that important, why are you suddenly sitting in a puddle of what I hope to God is sweat?"  
  
"Please, Joey, show a little respect!" Bobby-Jo scolded. "So," she continued pleasantly, "would you describe yourself as a people person?" Norman considered the question carefully.  
  
"Honey?" Joe-Bob said through clenched teeth. "Sweetheart? Light of my life? Could I please speak to you for a moment?" Bobby-Jo stood, and the two of them stepped around the corner of the room into the main entrance. They began speaking in hushed voices.  
  
"What did you want to talk about? Bobby-Jo asked innocently.  
  
"Have you lost your mind?" Joe-Bob whispered frantically. "Haven't you been reading the newspapers!? Don't you think this guy might have something to do with the mysterious 'Motel Murders,' that we've been hearing about?"  
  
"Oh Joey, stop jumping to these wild conclusions!" Bobby-Jo replied, "He seems like a perfectly nice young man to me." She gestured to Norman, who had somehow managed to bring a butcher knife into the room without either of them noticing and was fingering the tip hypnotically.  
  
Joe-Bob looked at him, then back at Bobby-Jo. "Do you have some sort of disease where you can't tell when someone is a homicidal maniac? Is it transmitted sexually? This man is a lunatic, he belongs behind bars where he-"  
  
"I can hear you, you know." Norman's voice came from the den. "You're only standing a few feet away."  
  
Joe-Bob's cheeks turned blue and another bead of sweat began to form, but he quickly sopped it up with the nearby drapes before it could burst over him.  
  
Bobby-Jo winced. "Not the curtains, dear."  
  
"Sorry." Joe-Bob muttered. "That's the second time today! Do you have any idea how bad that is for my health?" he folded his arms.  
  
"Oh, sweetie." She wrapped her arms around him tenderly. "Stop pouting."  
  
"You see what this place is doing to me?"  
  
"Sweetie..."  
  
"Forget being stabbed, I'll be dead of dehydration in a week."  
  
Before Bobby-Jo could utter reassurance, crashing sounds came from upstairs, and footsteps clamored closer, suggesting two men running. A familiar voice with a hysterical, yet oddly commanding tone screamed, "Put! Him! DOWN!"  
  
Renfield raced into the den, followed closely by Willard. "No!" he was screaming, "The blood is the life, the blood is the life!"  
  
"See?!" Joe-Bob said, "Just TRY and tell me that's normal!"  
  
Bobby-Jo ignored him. She ran into the den, where Renfield had managed to barricade himself behind a few pieces of furniture. Willard was standing threateningly in front of him.  
  
"What's all this, then?" Bobby-Jo asked.  
  
"I'm warning you, Renfield," Willard said, his eyes filled with indescribable rage. "Put him down, now." His voice cracked on the word 'now.' He wasn't a very imposing figure, but the sheer volume of his anger was terrifying. Bobby-Jo suddenly noticed Renfield held a small, white rat, squirming in his grip.   
  
In the main entrance, three figures gawked at the spectacle, apparently attracted by the noise. Edgler, Carrie and Donnie were leaning over the railing of the stairs, like spectators at a zoo. Nny had apparently remained in his room, not being the type to rubberneck. It was a surreal experience for them, seeing such a silent, fearful creature like Willard suddenly looking so dangerous.  
  
"It's always the quiet ones..." Edgler murmured with amusement.  
  
"Hey, shut up." Donnie said, offended. Carrie just watched, unsure if she should try to intervene.  
  
"This is your last chance!" Willard cried, trembling. Suddenly there seemed to be a lot more rats in the room...  
  
Bobby-Jo suddenly turned to Norman, who had been engrossed in the two men's behavior from his chair since they rushed in. "You want the job?" She asked. He turned and nodded. "Break this up." She finished.  
  
He looked from one man to the other, uncertain what to do. Renfield was making no sign of dropping the rat, but he eyed his opponent warily. On a wild impulse, Norman threw the knife he had been playing with at him, where it embedded itself in the wall, inches away from his shoulder. In his surprise, Renfield flinched and lost his grip on the struggling rodent, which leapt to the floor, then raced across the carpet and into Willard's waiting palm. It crawled up inside his sleeve, which Willard drew his arm around protectively.  
  
His rage aborted, he began to stutter as per usual. "If... if you ever c-come near Socrates again..." he didn't finish the sentence, and he didn't really need to. Averting the eyes of those on the stairs, he edged down the hall and back to his room.  
  
Meanwhile, Renfield simply glared at him, then slumped sullenly against the wall. "I don't like you." He said harshly to Willard's retreating figure.  
  
Bobby-Jo was shaking Norman's hand enthusiastically. "Welcome to the Raunchy Horse!" she said to the smiling young man. "Right, honey?" she added, looking imploringly at Joe-Bob.  
  
He threw is arms in the air with exasperation. "Why not?" he cried, "At the rate we're going the next applicant will be Freddy Kruger!"  
  
"Yo, just trimming the bushes." Freddy Kruger said from outside.  
  
Joe-Bob, Bobby-Jo and Norman huddled around the half-open window. Sure enough, there was Freddy Kruger, trimming the bushes outside the house with his clawlike glove. He paused in his work and waved at the people inside.  
  
"The HELL...?!" Joe-Bob screamed.   
  
Freddy reached up and took off his hat, mask and glove. "It's me, Phil! Gotcha!" he laughed.  
  
Joe-Bob fumed for a minute, but soon softened and joined in the infectious laughter. "Fuck me, I guess you did." He turned to Norman. "Yeah, this is our neighbor, Phil." Phil waved again.  
  
"Neighbors?" Norman said with alarm. "I thought this place was in the middle of nowhere."  
  
"It is," Bobby-Jo explained. "Phil here only lives seventeen miles away, and as such, is our closest neighbor. He has a long commute to and from work, and since we're on the way, he'll sometimes stop here."  
  
"So he drives out here all alone?" Norman said. "Interesting..."  
  
Phil gave him a confused look, then turned to the others. "Anyway," he said, "I can't stay too long today, just thought I'd show you mah little joke."  
  
"It was a stupid joke, I can't believe I fell for it." Joe-Bob said, suddenly eager to get rid of him.   
  
"Yeah, I mean, what, did you really think a character from a horror movie would come and stay at your house? That's stupid." Norman said. Everyone had a good laugh at Joe-Bob's stupidity.  
  
While the four of them engaged in a little small talk through the window, the threesome by the stairs had already lost interest and turned to their own pursuits. Donnie had left, muttering something about going for a walk. Carrie started to follow him but was intercepted by Edgler.  
  
"Where do you think *you're* going?" He said, with affectionate teasing.  
  
"Leave me alone." She replied, walking upstairs.  
  
He trailed her. "Hey, I'm only kidding, you know." He said as she quickened her pace. He swung around and stood in front of her, blocking her path. "You know I've been fascinated by you since I first saw you two days ago." Edgler spoke in a voice that might have fooled people who've been manipulated less than Carrie, but wasn't helping him currently. "You're so innocent, so special. I-"  
  
"I don't like being tricked." Carrie said, clenching her teeth. She pushed past him and practically ran towards the upstairs bathroom.  
  
"Hey...!" he said, grabbing at her shoulder as she passed. Her head swiveled and her eyes grew wide. Suddenly Edgler found himself slamming into the wall, sending tendrils of intesnse pain through his back, which made him smile. Carrie giggled girlishly, relieving some nervous tension as he groaned and struggled to get up.  
  
He recovered quickly. "You think that's funny?" he asked. His voice wasn't the least bit angry, but held the promise of impending violence. Carrie shrieked as he leapt up and reached for her. She dashed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, but she could already feel him beating on it. Before long his bodybuilder physique snapped the aged, fragile lock. "You little..."  
  
He stopped in midsentence as a loud crack was heard. His eyes rolled upwards and he fell limp on the ground, revealing the dark, spike-haired figure behind him. This figure was holding a steel baseball bat with a little fresh blood and hair on it, and it didn't take long to put two and two together. Carrie looked down, shocked, at Edgler's postrate form. Dark blood leaked from the back of his head, but the injury didn't look too serious. He shifted and moaned with masochistic pleasure.  
  
The figure of Johnny C looked down at his handiwork, paused, then spoke with his arms calmly folded across his chest. "I know I'm not really in a position to claim moral superiority over anyone," he looked up, "but I really detest sexual predators."  
  
Carrie looked at Nny with immense gratitude. Even though she would have likely been able to defend herself, that had been one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for her. And look how well everything turned out the last time someone did something nice for... never mind. The point is she was grateful.   
  
"Thank you." She said quietly.  
  
Nny nodded recognition, but seemed much more interested in the semiconscious man below him. "You venomous apes, so wrapped up in your little groins," he raved, "Haven't you ever considered the consequences of your actions? The feelings of others? Are you even listening?"  
  
Edgler groaned with effort and began lifting himself up, clearly regaining some of his strength. "Oh, what's the point?" Nny sighed, drawing a long knife out of his trenchcoat. Carrie wasn't eager to see how this would turn out, unfortunately the two men were blocking her only exist, and at this point, pushing past either of them would be a bad idea for anyone. An idea struck her, and she opened the window. She looked down and felt a wave of apprehension wash over her, but at the sound of a knife digging into flesh behind her, she made up her mind and leapt.  
  
Almost immediately she caught herself with her mind, and floated outside the window unsteadily, like someone attempting to crowd surf without a crowd. Being held in the air like that quickly proved more frightening than exhilarating, and she quickly bobbed up to the roof and landed. She sat there a while, waiting for her pulse to calm and letting the sunshine play on her face. The boarding house really was picturesque, if slightly run-down. Gothic in design, pale colors, surrounded by flowing grass on one side and a pastoral forest on the other. It was exactly the kind of place people's cars had a habit of breaking down next to in horror movies.  
  
But she had to love the forest. It was a botanist's wet dream, bubbling over with greenery of a thousand shapes and sizes, with a network of creeks and rivers flowing through it like arteries. Keeping the forest alive. Carrie gazed down into a cluster of trees near a river, and saw something moving down there. Even from the height, she recognized it as Donnie Darko, and her little heart went pitter-pat as her brain filled up with hormones.  
  
Down by the riverside, Donnie was enjoying a moment of peace, unaware he was being watched by a telekinetic. He had almost lost himself in the mindless trek of the water over stones, when a recognizable face entered his field of vision. Frank was standing on the opposite bank, motionless as a mantis.  
  
"The tangent universe has collapsed." He said, cryptic as ever, and disappeared.   
  
Donnie muttered and shook his head. "I must be the only one my age in the world developing a fear of bunny rabbits..." 


	3. Dinner and a Movie

Whoop-dee-doo, another chappie! Lots of focus on Nny, Donnie and Carrie this one, I'll prolly give the others a bit more screen time next chapter. I still have no idea where I'm going with this, but I'm loving every minute!  
  
Nope, still don't own these guys. Try me next week.  
  
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Eating dinner at the Raunchy Horse was doubtlessly a unique experience. For one thing, it was the only communal meal of the day. Coffee and sometimes doughnuts were usually in the kitchen in mornings, but people had to fend for themselves during lunch. Dinner was more or less the only time everyone would be in the same place at the same time. And as one walked around the table during dinner, the absurdity of the company there was really flung into the light. First, there was Bobby-Jo, who laughed like a hyena, chewed gum while eating, and salted everything, including her dessert. At the moment, she was engaged in an animated conversation with a few people, though she appeared to be the only animated one.  
  
Next to her was Johnny C. Nny ate like a devout Buddhist, taking only what he needed, which for him, wasn't much. He had a black eye and a few cuts on his face. But if Nny's wounds looked bad, sitting next to him was the epitome of the expression, 'You should see the other guy.'  
  
Bandaged like the invisible man, with pain restricting his movements, was Edgler Foreman Vess. In sharp contrast to Nny, Edgler ate his food with gusto, smacking and savoring everything. Animal grunts of pleasure erupted occasionally from his lips, bringing further disgust from the thin man next to him. He attracted attention while eating on a normal day, but he was even more of a spectacle now: The gauze wrapped around his head like a sweatband was caked in dry blood, and he had clearly made no attempt to remove the twisted shard of metal embedded in his shoulder.   
  
Next to him, Nny was muttering something about cheap knives, and what he intended to do to the owner of a certain pawn shop. The fact that Edgler was apparently enjoying his pain irritated him further.  
  
One more seat down was Willard, not-so-discretely slipping bits of his food to a friend up his sleeve. Every few seconds he would throw a glare of intense, primal hatred at the man seated across from him. This man was ignoring both Willard's stares and his own food, and was concentrating on trapping a gnat he had found flying around the room.  
  
Between Renfield and Bobby-Jo, if we are going in a counterclockwise direction, (should I draw a diagram?) was a very anxious Joe-Bob, who sniffed and inspected each bite of food carefully. He shot wary glances at the two teenagers across from him, (but next to Willard,) who were engaged in shy, halting conversation. Donnie laughed at something Carrie said, but realized she hadn't been making a joke when, a second later, the salt shaker exploded. The next few moments between them were awkward.  
  
Finally, between Carrie and Renfield sat the newest member of this group, Norman Bates. He sat like a man finally at peace, eating his food slowly, a casual smile on his face.  
  
"...And you should have seen the look on that little dog's face! It was PRICELESS!" Bobby-Jo nearly choked on her chewing gum from laughter.   
  
Willard looked across at her and smiled the sort of smile you smile at someone when you're secretly praying that God will open up the ground and swallow the person you're smiling at whole, just to get her to stop talking.  
  
Next to him, Donnie spoke to Carrie with awkward ineloquence. "So.. do you like horror movies?" he asked.  
  
Carrie looked a little like a stunned bunny. "I've... I've never even seen one before."  
  
"Oh." Donnie said, embarrassed. He looked down.  
  
"But I'd like to." Carrie recovered.  
  
"Oh! Well, uh... Dead by Dawn is playing in town tonight. Um. Do you wanna?"  
  
"I... well... yes."  
  
"Great! Great..." He gave a half-chuckle, half-sigh of relief. He smiled, paused and fiddled with his food a while. "...Can you drive?" he asked suddenly.  
  
Carrie shook her head. "Can you?"  
  
Donnie did likewise. "The judge said I can't until I'm twenty-one." He looked ashamed.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I... sorta burned a building down."  
  
"Really?" Carrie became excited, "Me too!" The two of them laughed.  
  
Meanwhile, Bobby-Jo paused in tormenting Willard with her conversation. "Mmph, scuze me a minute, I need to visit the urination station."  
  
Joe-Bob grabbed her arm as she got up. "Don't leave me alone here!" he cried.  
  
"I've got to!" she said, wriggling out of his grasp. "I'll only be a second."  
  
"Take me with you!" He pleaded in a whispering voice.  
  
"No, silly, I need to use the bathroom!"  
  
"It's nothing I haven't seen before!"  
  
"NO! Now leggo!" Bobby-Jo walked off. Joe-Bob turned helplessly back to the others. Norman smiled at him unnervingly.  
  
"You know, if you pick at that, it's only going to get worse." Norman said, turning to Edgler.  
  
Edgler was, between bites, digging his nails into his shoulder wound and giving tiny whimpers of pleasure. "That's pretty much the idea." He agreed. Nny muttered something under his breath and his eye twitched.  
  
"GOT IT!" came a shout from Renfield. Silence fell and everyone turned as he thrust the gnat into his mouth. Conversation started up again quickly.  
  
Donnie and Carrie spoke back and forth a little, then Carrie turned to Nny. "Mr. C?" she asked.  
  
Nny turned. "Yes?"  
  
"Do you like movies?"  
  
Nny almost laughed, but didn't. "To an unhealthy degree. Why?"  
  
"Well, we can't drive and... we wanted to know if..." she paused.  
  
"...We could bum a ride off you?" Donnie suggested.  
  
Nny looked thoughtful, then cast a glance at Edgler, still slurping up his food. He turned away in disgust. "Okay. Let's go." He stood and pushed his plate away.  
  
"May... may I have the, uh, rest of that?" Willard asked meekly, indicating Nny's plate, still mostly full. Nny nodded and pushed it over to Willard, who smiled and nodded thanks. As Nny left with Donnie and Carrie, Willard pushed Nny's food onto his own ample leftovers, and excused himself to his room.  
  
"...But can't you see the love you feel for your mother is a delusion?" Edgler was lecturing Norman on his own personal philosophy. "You only take pleasure in the things she does for you. You could get anyone else to do those things."  
  
Norman shook his head darkly. "No one could do as much for me as she has."  
  
Joe-Bob attempted a little conversation. "Will we, uh, ever get to meet your mother, Norman?" He asked.  
  
Norman's eyes glinted dangerously. "*You* might." He said.  
  
There was a pause. "Bobby?" Joe shouted at the bathroom quite a bit louder than was necessary, "You okay in there?!"  
  
Renfield's chair tipped over as he reached after a fly, causing a loud crash that made Joe-Bob flinch. Bobby-Jo finally came out of the bathroom, much to Joe-Bob's relief.  
  
"Sorry Joe, I- Where is everyone?"  
  
"The movies I think. Listen, I have to use the bathroom now." He got up and ran out of the room. Shortly thereafter came the sound of a car driving away with extreme haste.  
  
Later, in town, the two teenaged sociopaths were enjoying the movie immensely. At first, Nny had been watching it as well, -seated at a respectful distance, therefore giving them privacy. But a few minutes into the movie a man who had been talking very loudly left to use the bathroom, and Nny had followed him. Forty minutes past without a sign of either returning, but neither Carrie nor Donnie felt worried. The nervous agony of asking each other there had passed, and they sat, occasionally chatting quietly, but mostly in comfortable silence.  
  
But romantic bliss is hard to come by in a CryingChild fic, and within minutes the high-pitched whine of police sirens was heard from the distance. The walls of the theater were paper-thin, and even with the movie playing, they could hear the wail. Both adolescents immediately became tense at the noise, it really seemed to be headed for the theater.  
  
"I think we should probably leave." Donnie suggested.  
  
"Why?" Carrie asked, showing that despite everything, she retained a lot of naivete, "We didn't do anything here." Her eyes widened as she recalled the man Nny had gone after. "Oh." They hurried out quickly.  
  
Sure enough, Nny was literally dripping blood when they met up with him outside. "Hi." He said, casually. "I lost my ticket stub, so I decided to just wait for you."  
  
"We have to get out of here!" Donnie said bluntly.  
  
"Why?" Nny asked. The sirens grew louder. "Oh. Don't worry, that's not for me. I don't think I can ever be caught."  
  
The other two exchanged a look, then shrugged. After a little persuasion on their parts, the three of them got into Nny's run-down grey car and sped off into the night.  
  
Several miles down the road from them, Joe-Bob was enjoying a Twinkie in a nearby convenience store. Okay, perhaps 'enjoying' is to strong a word to describe anyone eating a Twinkie. But suffice to say he was eating a Twinkie and trying to come to terms with his life.  
  
"Okay, you know, things are actually going good for you." He said to himself. "Yeah, you've got a great, strong, intelligent woman at your side, a secure job and roof over your head, and seven murderers under that roof." Joe-Bob whimpered. "Give me another Twinkie, would you?" He asked the cashier.  
  
"Sure thing mister! Say, are you by any chance insane?"  
  
"Me?! Are you kidding?"  
  
"You've been talking to yourself for the last twenty minutes."  
  
"Listen, I'm a strictly sound minded person..."  
  
"You've been muttering about Freddy Kruger trimming your bushes."  
  
"And *you,* my friend, don't know what real insanity is."  
  
"I don't know what tripe is either, but I still eat it on toast every morning."  
  
"In that case, it's probably best you don't know what tripe is. Can I just have another Twinkie?"  
  
"Sure, sure. Here you are." He relinquished the semi-snack cake. "The reason I ask is I just heard over the radio, someone was stabbed to death at the dollar movie theater."  
  
Joe-Bob's eyes widened. "Was the theater playing Dead by Dawn?"  
  
"How the hell am I supposed to know? But there's only one theater in this town, so it's probably the same one you're thinking of." Joe-Bob's body went stiff. Another huge bead of sweat burst over his head. "Aww, geez..." said the cashier, "I just mopped that floor!"  
  
The full force of everything that had been going on recently touched something deep in Joe-Bob's chewy center. He squeezed his Twinkie flat, squirting creme filling everywhere. His arms flailed wildly, and he ran screaming out of the store, destination unknown.  
  
Meanwhile, Nny's driving style was making his passengers nauseous. Worse still, as he sped across the bumpy, uneven road, he was getting thoroughly lost, as most people who are used to city driving do when transferred to a rural area.  
  
"Where are we?" Carrie asked.  
  
"I have no idea." Nny replied testily.  
  
"Well, what does that sign say?"  
  
"It's practically been blown to the ground, I can't read it. Go out and see for yourself if you want to know."  
  
"Fine." The car stopped, Carrie exited and walked over to a road sign that was in an advanced state of disrepair, some yards away from the car. As she crossed the road to reach it, another car filled with people who had clearly been drinking too much came barreling out of nowhere. Carrie just barely had time to turn before it was inches from her.  
  
"Nooooooo!" Donnie screamed, in a tone of voice usually reserved for bad actors. Carrie didn't even flinch as the car suddenly flipped right over her head. The power of her mind lifted the car off the ground, spun it in the air, and brought it to a gentle landing upside down behind her, whereupon it's gas tank caught fire.  
  
Donnie rushed out of the car. "Carrie! I was so afraid for you!"  
  
"Dear God!" Screamed someone in the car. "We're really burning in here!"  
  
"I'm all right, really." Carrie replied.  
  
"Thank God no one was hurt." Donnie breathed.  
  
"Help! Somebody help, we can probably still survive if we geet medical attention, fast!"  
  
Donnie looked somber. "Carrie... it hurts to say this but... when I saw that car headed to you, it brought up so many painful memories."  
  
"Oh, thank goodness, this nice skinny man will help us to- Oh God, he's stabbing us! Help! Help!"  
  
"What are you trying to say?" Carrie asked, her eyes fearful.  
  
"I like you, but... well, I don't know if love is right for me." Carrie's eyes went wide and her breathing quickened. "I have too many problems as it is. And my girlfriends have a habit of dying, I don't want that to happen to you."  
  
"Why is no one stopping this?! Dear Lord, my organs!! Aaa... aa.. ergh..."  
  
Carrie looked aghast. Tears formed in her eyes, and she looked ready to do something drastic. But her memory suddenly brought her back to the night of her senior prom. Could she really say her luck in love had been any better? Much of her anger faded, and what remained of it disappeared after the flaming car behind her mysteriously crumpled in upon itself. "I understand." She said.  
  
"You two okay?" Nny asked, walking up to them. By now he had so much blood on his clothes the white parts were almost uniformly red.  
  
Donnie looked at Carrie for conformation, and she nodded. "Yes." She said.   
  
"We've just decided not to go together anymore." Donnie added.  
  
The three of them talked as they walked over to Nny's car, then sat on it watching what remained of the burning wreckage and charred corpses. "That's probably for the best. In my experience, love can only lead to suffering. Best to avoid it in the first place, and spare yourself the agony later."  
  
"Do you really think that's always true?" Carrie asked.  
  
"Absolutely." Nny replied. "I can't think of a single couple that hasn't been driven over the brink by their relationship."  
  
"What about those two who run the boarding house?" Donnie countered, "They're in a relationship, and they seem pretty stable."   
  
At that point, Joe-Bob ran past them with a destroyed Twinkie in one hand, screaming gibberish and tearing at his hair. 


	4. Ratman vs The Zoophagous

Myyyep. Title is just a bit 'o terminology to remind you that, yes, most of these characters were books before they were movies. In fact, aside from Donnie, and of course Nny, they're all books turned movies. ...And in two cases, (Carrie and Willard,) remade within the last two years, in one case (Carrie,) given a sequel, and in two more cases, (Norman and Renfield,) given more remakes, sequels, knockoffs and parodies than you can shake a stick at. Why yes, I am a geek, why do you ask?  
  
No own, you bastards, no own!!!  
  
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Morning in the Raunchy Horse. The aroma of fresh coffee and warm Krispy Kreme doughnuts was enticing beyond measure, and it's Siren song drew boarders like flies. It was almost a testament to the fact that yes, there are constants in the universe: Young or old, sane or insane, none can resist the allure of Krispy Kremes and coffee. One by one, people drifted in.  
  
Naturally, Nny was the first to arrive, and he chatted with Bobby-Jo while she set up the food. Her cheerfulness was both infectious and annoying, and as a result Nny didn't intend to stay long. Renfield came down next, surprisingly lucid, and sipped a cup of coffee with Victorian politeness. Nny was just making an excuse to leave when, without comment, Donnie walked in through the front door. His clothes were a mess and he had clearly slept outdoors. He looked like he had walked a considerable distance too.  
  
"Something the matter with your room, Donnie?" Bobby-Jo asked with genuine concern.  
  
"No, no. I just... I got problems, y'know?" It was sufficient explanation.  
  
"Probably for the best." Nny said, gesturing to Renfield. "This guy screams in his sleep."  
  
"I hope I didn't keep you awake." Renfield said, in a calm, measured voice almost indistinguishable from his normal, hissing tone.  
  
"Don't worry about that." Nny said with confidence. "Excuse me." He made his way out of the room, passing Edgler as he did so. The two exchanged an expression that could crumble cities, but no incident occurred. Donnie walked upstairs to shower as Edgler entered the room.  
  
Edgler cracked open the doughnut box and poured himself an enormous cup of black coffee. Bobby-Jo and Renfield each took a doughnut too. Conversation was nonexistent in the dim light of the rising sun, but that changed when a now-familar face peered in through the window.  
  
"Hiya, Bobby! What's shaking?" Phil said, chipper.  
  
Bobby-Jo grinned wide. "Not much, how's by you?" Remembering herself, she turned. "Oh, this is Phil, everyone. He stops by here on his way to work sometimes."  
  
"So he drives up here all alone?" Edgler asked, "Interesting..."  
  
Snippets of conversation were exchanged and everyone seemed to be in a good mood. But the atmosphere changed considerably when Willard entered the room. Renfield's calm manner ended abruptly, he slammed his coffee cup down on the table. Willard glared at him and drew his right hand over his pocket. He approached the box of doughnuts. "M-may I?" he asked Bobby-Jo.  
  
"Sure! That's what they're there for!" Bobby-Jo chirped.  
  
Willard grabbed three, nodded thanks, and headed back to his room without so much as tasting one. As he passed the den, however, something caught the corner of his eye. A very large something...  
  
"Ben!" Willard's voice was scolding, yet impotent, like a parent chastising an unresponsive child. "I told you to stay in the room! They're going to be very upset if they find you out here."  
  
With aloof defiance, the enormous rat cleaned it's whiskers while looking at the addled man. Willard made a largely unsuccessful attempt to look commanding. "Now, I mean it Ben! You have to go back. Now go!" he gestured. Ben looked at him. "I'm warning you!" Willard's voice cracked and went high.  
  
Ben hesitated, then scampered out of the room, through the main entrance, and out the door, which Donnie had left partially open. Willard fumed. "Fine! Leave! See if I care!" he screamed, knowing the rat would come back later anyway, as it always did. Looking to the side, he realized everyone in the kitchen could hear him and had gathered near the door to stare. Blushing and trembling, he walked back to his room.  
  
When he opened the door, there was a sudden surplus of motion, it looked as if the floor itself was coming alive. But we all know better, don't we? "Food..." he said, tossing bits of doughnut at the swarm of rats, "...food..."  
  
...Later, after breakfast, Bobby-Jo was cleaning up when Joe-Bob came into the room. He had clearly just awakened. "Sleep well?" Bobby-Jo asked, chipper.  
  
"Ugh... don't make me think about it. Any doughnuts left?"  
  
"Hmm..." she did a little mental calculation. "Let's see: Renfield and I each had one, Willard had three, and Edgler had six, so... yes, there should be one left, you can have it."  
  
"Thanks." said Joe-Bob. He reached for the precious orb of grease and sugar, but his hand collided with that of another. He looked up and saw Norman, then drew his hand back as if he'd been bitten.  
  
"Oh, you can have it." Norman said, in a pleasantly unnerving voice. "I'm not that hungry, anyway."  
  
"No! No, that's fine, it's all yours. I have to go now." Joe-Bob sped out of the kitchen and locked himself in the downstairs bathroom. He didn't come out until Norman had finished his doughnut and returned to his room. A few minutes later the sounds of two distinct voices arguing came from behind Norman's door.  
  
"Is anyone in there with him?" Joe-Bob asked, knowing what answer to expect.  
  
"No, I don't think so." Bobby-Jo said casually, "Why?"  
  
Joe-Bob whimpered. "I think I want *my* mommy..."  
  
Time passed, as time is wont to do. And throughout the day, tensions continued to rise between Willard and Renfield. Little things began to prod the dormant demons inside each of them. They no longer even needed the rats as a point of contention between them, they hated each other, genuinely and thoroughly. Renfield mostly avoided Willard, and Willard tried to do the same, but neither man was the type to forget a grudge. In each of them, contempt simmered, and it could not be long before things reached boiling point.  
  
"Holy shit on a shit-shat!" Joe-Bob screamed in mortal terror. He stormed out of his room and into the den, where Willard, Nny, Donnie and Edgler were doin' STUFF. Ahead of him raced a rat the size of a dog. Well, a very, very small dog, anyway. You know, one of those tiny little yappy ones named Fifi or Xaivier? Anyway...  
  
"What's the matter?" Donnie asked.  
  
"THAT!" He pointed at Ben, "I was taking a nap, and when I woke up, that *thing* was sitting on my chest!"  
  
Willard made a pathetic attempt to look innocent. When that failed, he apologized. "Sorry." He said. (See? What'd I tell you?)  
  
"Damn near had a heart attack!" Joe-Bob shakily ran a hand over his mussed brown hair.  
  
"I'm sorry..." Willard repeated, "I tried to keep him inside." He glared at Ben, who was already making his way into another room. "But he dosen't listen."  
  
Joe-Bob shuddered down into an easy chair, still shivering. "I'm coming apart..." he muttered, then looked up. "Does anyone have a sedative, or anything like that?"  
  
Donnie, who was reading 'Valis' on the sofa across from him, brought a prescription bottle out of his pocket and shook it. "My mom keeps sending me these. You can have them if you want."  
  
Joe-Bob hesitated, then threw good thinking to the wind and accepted the bottle of little blue pills, which Donnie tossed across the room to him. "Thanks." He said.  
  
"Yeah, don't mention it." Said Donnie, returning to his book.  
  
Edgler looked up from the flower he was tearing up, and addressed Joe-Bob. "Look, whatever you're going through, there's no need to be upset about it. Intense negative sensations are good for you. They build upon the reef of the soul."  
  
Donnie rolled his eyes, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'jackass.' "Listen," he said to Joe-Bob, "If something's wrong, just face it. We're here for you if you need it, y'know?" Sympathetic expressions came from around the room.  
  
Joe-Bob practically moaned, closing his eyes. "I can't believe it. I'm finding solace in the company of murderers."  
  
"I prefer the term 'homicidal adventurer.'" Edgler said.  
  
"Besides, I only did that once." Donnie turned away, upset.  
  
"Twice for me." said Willard.  
  
Joe-Bob closed his eyes and chuckled sadly. "I'm losing my MIND!" he all but screamed.  
  
Nny spoke up. "Don't feel too bad about it. After all, deep down, aren't we all a little crazy?" He paused. "I know I am."  
  
"That's for sure." Edgler chuckled teasingly.  
  
Nny's left eye twitched at Edgler. He picked up the pen he had been doodling with and held it like it was a switchblade. "Do you really think that's a nice thing to say?!" He asked threateningly.  
  
"What, exactly, do you intend to do," mocked Edgler. "ink me to death?"  
  
Nny growled and checked himself, knowing that causing Edgler pain was exactly what the man wanted. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He said, slowly lowering his arm. Edgler smirked.   
  
Joe-Bob paused, looking at the two, then began gulping down the pills.   
  
"Hey there, don't you think you should ease up a little?" Donnie said, raising an eyebrow, but half the bottle was already gone. "Want some water or something, then? I mean... geez."  
  
Everything stopped as the sound of screaming came from the downstairs hallway. The five of them got up and walked in the direction of the noise, with varying degrees of haste. Willard got there first, and saw Ben and Renfield. Much to Willard's delight, Renfield was clutching his hand in agony, and Ben's whiskers were stained with blood. Clearly, the rat had inflicted a minor, but excruciatingly painful wound on Renfield, probably in self-defense. Willard gave a quiet, breathy chuckle at the sight of his rival in pain.  
  
As the others made it to the hallway, Renfield looked up at the smiling Willard, murder in his eyes. "You made this happen!" He screamed.  
  
"No, honestly," Willard was still grinning, "I had nothing to do with it. Really."  
  
Renfield was clearly not convinced. This was evidenced by the fact that, seconds later he leapt at Willard and began strangling him. He knocked him over onto the floor and kneeled on top of him, hands wrapped around his throat, banging his head against the floor with uncommon strength. It took the combined might of Nny, Donnie and Joe-Bob just to pry him off. Edgler just watched, amused.   
  
The three of them forced Renfield upstairs and into his room, locking him in. Donnie and Joe-Bob ran back downstairs, while Nny went into his own room. Willard was still on the floor, rubbing his throat, but he looked generally all right. Edgler had disappeared, and Donnie leaned over the injured young man.  
  
"You okay?" He asked. Willard nodded, looking a little embarrassed.   
  
When Donnie turned back around, he saw Joe out in the main entrance, hanging from a chandelier and foaming at the mouth. Whatever Donnie had given him had evidently kicked in, hard and fast. Donnie walked over to him and picked up the half-empty bottle of pills that had fallen on the floor. Wide-eyed, he looked up at Joe-Bob. "My mom must be trying to kill me..." he muttered, dazed. He pocketed the bottle and sauntered out the door, headed for the woods.  
  
Back in the hallway, Willard sat up. His neck ached unbearably, but he still enjoyed the mental picture of Renfield rolling on the floor. A few feet away from him, Ben sniffed at the air.  
  
"Ben? You're okay in my book." Willard said, smiling. Aloof, Ben started gnawing on the corner of the wall. Willard shook his head. "You really will be the death of me." he chuckled. 


	5. Showdowns at the Raunchy Horse

Yeah, yeah, kinda predictable, (you'll know what I mean when you get to it,) but I needed an excuse for Nny to interact with the other nut jobs. It's surprisingly hard to find reasons for all this, since a lot of the characters are loners by nature. But it's fun, oh-so-fun! And here's the chapter where I show blatant favoritism, yay! By the way, I used to have mice, and they WILL crawl up your sleeve like that if you let them.  
  
I own your soul, but not these characters.  
  
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Another day, another sunrise, another morning. In the early light, figures lurking in the kitchen seemed paler and darker. Joe-Bob sat at the table, an ice pack to his forehead, suffering from the mother of all hangovers. In the shadows behind him crept Nny, who had been spending a lot more time with the other boarders than he'd normally be inclined to, on the grounds that he really didn't want to be in his room. The reasons for this weren't yet clear to anyone, but most decided it was none of their damn business anyway.  
  
Leaning against the counter, coffee mug in one hand, was Bobby-Jo, chipper as a Disney character. And standing uncomfortably close to her was Edgler Foreman Vess. He made one or two attempts to flirt with her, until Joe-Bob angrily shouted, "Leave her the hell alone!" That is, in his mind he angrily shouted "Leave her the hell alone!" In reality, he said "Leave her the hell alone!" in a whispery rasp. Still, ten out of ten for effort, because Edgler stopped on his command. Though he did give Joe-Bob a look that made him fear for his life.  
  
Bobby-Jo, however, was capable of repelling him on her own. "I thought you were after Carrie, Edgler." She said with cold sarcasm. "Did she manage to resist your otherworldly charm?" The question was rhetorical and designed to embarrass. Everyone had seen, over the past few days, Carrie thwart, divert, and generally beat the crap out of Edgler with her spooooky powers.   
  
Edgler chuckled, fingering a nasty cut by his ear. "That girl certainly has spirit," he remarked, "I can't imagine how she got so strong."  
  
"Strong my ass, " Joe-Bob sneered, anger overriding fear, "she gave you a telekinetic whuppin'. Her mind's just stronger than yours is."  
  
"Why don't you go eat some more pills, pill head?" Edgler snapped, coming to life like a feral beast. Joe-Bob shrank back as Bobby-Jo raised an eyebrow in confusion.  
  
Nny's interest was piqued. "What do you mean?" He asked, raising his head out of the shadows.  
  
Edgler rolled his eyes. "Whatever our drugged-up friend here *thinks* he sees," Edgler  
indicated Joe-Bob, who pretended to be fascinated with the bottom of his coffee cup." There is no such thing as telekinesis. I can't believe I actually have to say that." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand to indicate finality.  
  
Nny raised an eyebrow. You don't spend years as a homicidal maniac without getting a feel for when someone's afraid of something. "You can't think it's even possible?" he prodded. "Are you really so narrow-minded?"  
  
Edgler forced air through his lips. "Oh please!" He said. "Telekinesis is as much a fairytale as demons, zombies and UFOs. I would expect this sort of thing from someone as unbalanced as you, Johnny." Edgler grinned, hoping that using Nny's full name would provoke an attack. But rather than holding anger, Nny's wide eyes were accompanied by a manic smile that eventually unsettled everyone in the room, Edgler and Bobby-Jo included.  
  
It wasn't until later, up in his room, that Nny really got his thoughts on the subject together. His room was as unfurnished as it was when he first moved in, save the addition of an overstuffed grey couch he had pulled off the curb. The walls had changed considerably, however. They were covered in pictures, doodles and assorted ravings done in mostly in black and red paint. It was probably red paint. Right? Right?  
  
He sat against the wall, away from said couch, scribbling in a dog-eared journal:  
  
"Dear Die-ary," he wrote, "I have discovered the thorn in my side, and it has a human face. Surprisingly this face is not my own, but that of another. His name is Edgler Foreman Vess, and I long to rid the earth of his poisoning existence. However, I can't seem to kill him. He's physically stronger than I am, and unlike most of his kind he isn't scared off by steel.   
  
"I may however, have found the proverbial flaw in this sick and abrasive ointment: He, like so many others, fears what he doesn't understand. The objective is clear, overload his narrow mind with the supernatural. If only a source can be found here..."  
  
Nny looked around grimly at the shadows that surrounded him. Aside from the window, the only light in the room came from an exposed, hanging light bulb which still left most of the room in darkness. Musing, he turned to an earlier entry in his die-ary, one he had written a few days ago:  
  
"Dear Die-ary... Removing the influence the house had on me may have been a backwards step. Whether a result of the people living here or the ancient native american burial grounds the brochure said this boarding house was built over, I can feel dark unrest seeping in every crevice. At risk of being cliched, I sense eeevil spirits in the house."  
  
He paused and shook his head. A vague feeling of uneasiness and fear apparently held only by him didn't much count as supernatural. He shivered a little involuntarily. There had to be something more concrete he could find here...  
  
Feeling chilly, Johnny?  
  
A familiar voice filled his mind and snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked across the room at the little ceramic burger boy statue propped against the wall. "Shut up, meat-man, I'm brooding." He replied.  
  
You think that by destroying someone who lives for external sensations that you'll somehow save yourself? By transference? You're smarter than that  
  
"You want me to kill again, don't you? Well, that's what I'm doing."  
  
I want you to give in to your desires. If killing is among them, so be it. You know that if you aren't a slave to them you'll only be enslaved by the desire to be rid of them. So why fight it? Be reasonable.  
  
Nny looked down, then determinedly up. "You know? You're right. I think I'll give in to the next impulse that hits me." Without further hesitation, he stamped across the room, picked up Reverend Meat in one hand, and threw him out the window, breaking the pane as he did so.  
  
"Oh no!" Came Bobby-Jo's voice from below his window. "We're being invaded by little ceramic men from space! Wait... that's stupid, never mind."  
  
Nny looked around and rubbed his shoulders. Without Meat, the room suddenly seemed even more menacing, and he swore he could hear whispers behind the walls. "I don't want to be alone right now." He said quietly.  
  
Meanwhile, outside, Bobby-Jo examined Reverend Meat, who now had a large crack in his head. She rummaged in a bag she happened to have with her that was full of scraps of material, and placed a pointy felt cap on him. Then she wrapped a large green scarf around him like a jacket, and placed a stone squirrel next to his foot. A few minutes of tweaking and adjusting later, Reverend Meat began his fulfilling career as a lawn gnome.   
  
After all that exhaustive dressing up ceramic burger boys, Bobby-Jo was in the mood for a cool, refreshing glass of lemonade. And since she did not know how to suck lemonade out of aluminum siding, she had to go inside for it. She went in through the main entrance and turned right to enter the kitchen, but something caught her eye in the den and she turned. She was just in time to see Carrie, -who was reading on the sofa visible through the den door- jump as a knife sailed across the room, lodging itself in the wall inches from her head.  
  
A few chairs wobbled and some pictures rattled against the walls as she yelled, "Nobody thinks you're funny!"  
  
Nny suddenly came into both Carrie and Bobby-Jo's field of vision. "I saw a bug." He explained.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Carrie said, setting down her copy of 'Thinner,' "I thought you were Renfield." She paused a moment, as if thinking: *He threw a knife at me, and I'm apologizing to him? Something isn't right here...* But she let it go. "He's been trying to get back at Willard ever since yesterday, but mostly he just gets the rest of us. It's so annoying." Carrie explained.  
  
Nny nodded understanding as he pried his bowie knife out of the wall, using his foot for leverage. "Ha! Got it!" he cried, as he noticed the neatly bisected corpse of a wasp fall off the tip. Carrie smiled a little at the tone of Nny's voice. He looked at her. "Say," he said, "Maybe you can help me..." Bobby-Jo turned back towards the kitchen, not wanting to be nosey. On the way there, she was startled as a rat dashed across her feet, providing segue to Willard, who was in his room.  
  
Willard's room was furnished efficiently, comfortable but depressing. Willard himself was lying on a small red sofa, looking up at Socrates, who was climbing over his hands. Aside from the two of them and a few other pieces of furniture, the room was empty. He had managed to convince the rats they'd be happier living in the cellar for a while. Willard felt a little guilty about that, since the cellar wasn't exactly his to rent out, but he needed a respite from the endless scratching and scuffling. There were bite marks on just about everything in his room. But he had managed, after a few hours, to sweep up every last tiny black ball of rat droppings, which made a distinct improvement. He sighed a little as he spoke to his furry amigo.  
  
"Maybe it was a mistake to come here..." Willard said quietly. Socrates responded by sniffing Willard's thumb. "I don't want anything bad to happen again. But I don't think we have anywhere else to go." He knew they would have likely torn his house down by now. He didn't even like to think of the home he had grown up in lying in rubble, to go back and risk seeing it was unthinkable.  
  
As Willard came dangerously close to angst, a plot device exploded outside his door, distracting him. He jumped up, Socrates scampered into and up his sleeve, his tiny white head reappearing outside Willard's collar. Cautiously, totally unaware of how adorable he looked with Socrates peeping out of his shirt, Willard walked over to the door, opening it a crack and peering out, unseen.  
  
In the hallway, Nny and Carrie worked in near-silence, unaware and uninterested in Willard's observation. "No, no," Nny instructed, "Pour the gasoline *over* the styrofoam, like this. Nice and even, that's the only way to make napalm. Good, now I'll stash this under the floorboards. When I give the signal, just apply a little mental friction to the match heads."  
  
Carrie nodded, biting her lip in trepidation. She didn't like Edgler, of course, but she didn't like a whole lot of people, that didn't mean she went around setting them on fi- wait, yes she did. But she still was a little hesitant. "You must really hate this guy, huh?"  
  
Nny considered that for a moment. Did he really hate? "More than life itself." He said finally. Carrie giggled.   
  
Willard closed the door and sighed heavily. "Nobody likes us, do they Socrates?" he asked. Socrates nibbled his coat affectionately. "And I'm running out of coats..."  
  
It was much later in the day before Willard ventured out of his room to use the upstairs  
bathroom. The downstairs one was curiously locked, otherwise he wouldn't set foot on the second floor. He was having a very bad day. And nothing puts a bad day in perspective like someone whacking you in the spine with a broken table leg. Willard was knocked to the ground, but scrambled away before Renfield could land another blow on him. "Why are you doing this to me?!" Willard shouted, "I never did anything to you!"  
  
"Don't patronize me!" Renfield was apparently made angrier by Willard's words, "You stupid, stupid man!"  
  
Renfield advanced on Willard menacingly, and Willard's face shifted in fear. Suddenly, the sound of scuffling was all around him. He knew what that meant. Not even needing to look at the ground for confirmation, he pointed at his assailant and hissed, "Shoes! Tear it!"  
  
Renfield screamed, more in fear than pain, as countless rats swarmed around him in a blurred brown mass. Tiny yellow fangs tore at his shoes, shredding them, and once or twice drawing a little blood from his feet. He dropped the table leg and screamed, spinning and hopping to dislodge the swarm in a bizarre dance.   
  
Willard gave a relieved chuckle at first, but his expression changed when Renfield fell to the ground and the rats didn't relent. "No." he said, softly at first, then louder. "No! Don't kill him! Don't-" He looked around frantically, his eyes landing, unsurprisingly, on Ben. "Ben! Tell them to stop!" Ben simply stared back at Willard. "Tell them Ben! They'll listen to you! Tell..." He picked Ben up roughly. "What's the matter with you?!" he cried. "Ow!" he added as Ben bit his finger, drawing blood. He dropped the rat who fell to the ground with a loud *thud* that would make anyone wince.   
  
One could practically feel the tension in the room shift. Suddenly quite a few of the rats halted, and more came out of the walls. One by one, they turned to Willard. "Okay. I..." Willard began, attempting to back out of the room. Quite suddenly both men were on the ground, fighting off the furry horde.  
  
Willard didn't scream, he simply made pained, gasping sounds as a thousand little claws and teeth raced over him. Flailing his arms, he tried to beat them off but more were coming every second. He reached blindly for something to defend himself with and his hand closed around Renfield's discarded table leg. As he fought his way up from under the pile of rodents, he kneeled, preparing for another onslaught and holding the table leg like a bat. To his surprise, the rats were dispersing. He felt pretty good about himself for exactly 0.02 seconds, when he realized why the rats were dispersing.  
  
Sitting in the center of a few rat carcasses, dead to the world but with a blissful expression on his face was Renfield. His mouth was covered in blood. "Oh... G...God..." Willard collapsed against the wall, trying not to vomit.  
  
Meanwhile, downstairs, Edgler strolled around the boarding house with easy confidence. He was feeling aimless at the moment, looking for something to divert his attention. He didn't have to look long. As he turned and entered the downstairs hallway, he noticed that the lamp at the end of it was out, cloaking a few feet of it in shadow. Standing in those shadows, looking otherworldly and terrifying was Nny. He wore a glare that clashed with his manic grin, in an expression of pure madness that would have sent most people scampering up trees. Edgler just smiled pleasantly, anticipating a source of entertainment, and maybe even a little masochistic fun.  
  
Nny didn't intend to entertain Edgler, and while causing pain appealed to him right then, there would be no point if Edgler was going to enjoy it. He had other plans for where this encounter would go. He looked up at Edgler. "Have you ever seen Hell?"  
  
Three seconds later, Edgler was running in terror, flames fanning off his clothes. Screaming, he jumped through the windowpane, lodging glass in various parts of his body.  
  
"My goodness!" Bobby-Jo said, standing in the den, "What on earth is going on?"  
  
Carrie came out of the bathroom in which she'd been hiding. "It was great, as soon as he mentioned Hell," she gestured to Nny, who was still in the hallway, looking pleased. "Flames just *shot* out of the cracks in the floorboards. You should have seen the look on his face, he was scared shitless!"  
  
"I'll... just go call an ambulance..." Bobby-Jo said, ignoring how many things were wrong with the sentence she'd just heard.  
  
For the first time in a long time, Norman came out of his room. Joe-Bob was out buying groceries and Donnie had gone for another walk. "What's going on?" Norman said, "I heard screaming upstairs... and down here... why is that man twitching on the front lawn?"  
  
On cue, Willard shambled down the steps, incredibly shaky. His voice was choked with conflicting emotions as he spoke. "Everything's fine upstairs." He said to Norman. Without further comment, he shuffled into his room, an aura of unexpressed tension trailing behind him.  
  
He entered his place of residence, where Socrates had apparently been during the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, Socrates wasn't the only one in that room who walked on four feet.  
  
"Ben?!" Willard cried in surprise, bracing himself and scanning the room for more. He waited several beats, but nothing happened. "Just you, then?" Willard asked. Ben stared at him. From the top of a nearby cabinet, Socrates climbed onto Willard's shoulder. "What?" Willard asked, as Ben continued to stare. "I didn't ask him to do it. You know that." More staring. "You know, if anything, I should be mad at *you!* what was that back there? I thought we were friends." Ben chewed his paw innocently. "Don't give me that." Staring. "Fine. The cellar's a better place for you anyway, it'll keep us both from having problems with the owners."  
  
Outside Willard's room, the front door opened. "Hi honey. Did you have a good time shopping?" Bobby-Jo asked.  
  
"You know it!" Joe-Bob said, considerably cheered and relieved by a few hours away from the house. "I bought a ton of pickled beets. Just let me put them in the cellar and I'll bring the rest of the groceries around." He walked off.  
  
The scream that came from the cellar seconds later was deafening.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Wait! Run! Hide! Save the children! It's Rev. MEAT all dolled up as a lawn gnome, in full eeevil color! Boy, he looks pissed:   
  
And here's a better looking one in black and white, the way God, (Jhonen Vasquez) intended it: 


	6. Does This Bug You?

No! Don't hurt me, Minimoose! I'm sorry I was a bad author and neglected my scary readers! *Sobs remorsefully* I promise I'll never have a life ouside of fanfiction again! ...Ahem, anyway, I'm back to the old grind on this fic again. I only stopped for a while there to work on another thing, one of my "serious" pieces. One of those things where I use characters I actually MADE UP myself, instead of taken from TV shows! Hard to imagine, yes? But I've finished with it for now, so on with this thing!  
  
NOW FOR SHAMELESS FANART PLUGGING! First, a little doodle of Nny, fixed up a tad in Correl. It doesn't really have anything to do with this, but it's content is similar to something you'd find in this story. It's at: deviantart.com/deviation/1807682  
  
Also, since apparently Meat's gnome picture addresses didn't show up the first time, here they are again, for color: deviantart.com/deviation/1778073  
  
And B&W: deviantart.com/deviation/1778112  
  
Maybe I own them, and maybe I don't. YOU'LL never know!  
  
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Clip, clop, clip, clop... Bobby-Jo's gargantuan heels clacked on the floorboards as she prowled the hallways. It was late morning, Edgler was in the hospital being treated to a slow and painful recovery, and things seemed to have settled down. This is why she was a little surprised to see Carrie and Donnie with their ears pressed against the door to Norman's room. Carrie gestured for Bobby-Jo to come over.   
  
"This is better than TV." Donnie said. Not wanting to pry into whatever was going on behind that door, but burning with curiosity, Bobby-Jo listened:  
  
"I don't care. I want you to stay away from those people." Came a high pitched, crotchety voice. "They're all a bunch of degenerates and low lifes."  
  
"Who's in-" Bobby-Jo started, but Donnie shushed her. "You'll see."  
  
"But mother," came Norman's voice from inside, "You've got it all wrong. They're not-"  
  
"Don't you talk to me that way, young man!" The first voice shouted. "You're no better than the rest of them, talking that way to your poor old mother."  
  
"I wasn't talking back, I-"  
  
"There! You're doing it again, Norman!" The first voice sounded triumphant. "I'm warning you, young man, if you don't change things soon, I'm going to take matters into my own hands."  
  
"Alright, alright..." Norman's voice said soothingly. "Don't overexcite yourself, please." the conversation died away. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching the door was heard by the three eavesdroppers. They scrambled to look natural, and succeeded in looking stiff and weird as Norman opened the door.  
  
"I'm just gonna see how Joe-Bob is doing." Bobby-Jo excused herself. She walked in the direction of the master bedroom, where Joe-Bob was sitting on the bed, still wearing the clothes he had worn the previous day. He screamed as Bobby-Jo opened the door. "It's just me, sweetie." she said.  
  
"Oh thank God..." Joe-Bob said, still shuddering. "I was starting to wonder if something happened to- WHAT WAS THAT SOUND?!"  
  
"That was me closing the door, dear." Bobby-Jo said.  
  
"Oh, good, good. Door closed good. Keeping it together. Keeping it together.." he trailed off.  
  
"Look, it's not that big a deal, you'll just have to stay out of the cellar from now on. Try to relax, honey." Bobby-Jo patted him on the back, he nearly jumped seven feet.  
  
"RIGHT! Right, right. I'm relaxed, I'm calm. A-Okay!" He said unconvincingly, his leg moving up and down of it's own accord.  
  
"Good!" Bobby-Jo replied. "Now why don't you get up, take a shower..."  
  
"NO SHOWERING!" Joe-Bob shrieked. "That's when they GET you..." He looked around, as if the ever-elusive "they' might be hiding in the room somewhere  
  
"Alright. Tell you what, I'm just going to go have Norman collect the rent, and I'll be right back."  
  
"DON'T LEAVE ME! I mean, what's your hurry? Let's talk, we never talk anymore. How bout them Packers? PLEASE DON'T GO!!!"  
  
"Ho-ney, please! I'll only be a second. Besides, with Norman working for us, you don't have to collect the rent from the boarders. That makes you happy, doesn't it?" Joe-Bob had to admit that it did. He watched the door close behind Bobby-Jo reluctantly as she left...  
  
Quite a bit of time passed. A few hours worth of it, in fact. After having Norman collect the rent, -he escaped with only minor injuries- Bobby-Jo took Joe-Bob into town. They didn't do much anything important, but Bobby-Jo correctly assumed that some time away from the house was exactly what Joe-Bob needed. They got some coffee, walked around the park, then stopped by the video store.  
  
"When we get home, we can watch something that'll cheer you up and calm you down." Bobby-Jo suggested.  
  
Joe-Bob nodded, still in the clothes he had worn yesterday. "Yes. Just nothing with anything scary in it."  
  
"Okay," Bobby-Jo flipped through some tapes. "Ooh! How about The Maltese Falcon?" She suggested.  
  
"Eep! Guns!" cried Joe-Bob.  
  
"Oh, of course. How about The Sound of Music, then?"  
  
"Eek! Nazis!"  
  
"Alright, alright, well, how about Beauty and the Beast?"  
  
"Eep! Talking candlesticks!" Joe-Bob practically moaned.  
  
"What's scary about talking candlesticks?"  
  
"Are you kidding me? What ISN'T scary about talking candlesticks?!"  
  
"Alright, alright, why don't you choose one?"  
  
Quite a lot more time passed, they settled on "Bedazzled," (The *good* 70's version with Dudley Moore,) and set out for home.  
  
"Feel better?" Bobby-Jo asked.  
  
"Yes, a lot better." Joe-Bob replied. "Thank you."  
  
"No problem. Now when we get back, you can help me with dinner, then afterwards we'll watch the video, and before you know it you'll feel right at home again." she gave one of her mind-melting grins and pulled up to the Raunchy Horse.  
  
The two of them went inside and made delicious Pad Thai, with frozen vegetables instead of chopped --Joe-Bob's idea, naturally. Everything was going smoothly, which was a sure sign to everyone that something was about to go horribly wrong.  
  
Still, dinner was kind of pleasant, even for Joe-Bob. In fact, it was just about the calmest, most normal, unremarkable dinner ever shared at the Raunchy Horse. Willard still stuck bits of food up his sleeve, of course, but since he was now on rather delicate terms with the rats, he was free to eat what was left. He also no longer showed animosity to Renfield, who was still ranking the things on his plate beneath the things that buzzed around his head.  
  
Nny wasn't the type to just be happy willy-nilly, but he did have a very pleasant, smiling aura surrounding him. Between the absence of both Edgler and Meat, and the Cherry Fizz Whizz Bobby-Jo had so thoughtfully picked up in town, his was filled with the absence of pain. Donnie was absent, out communing with nature and throwing rocks into the creek. Carrie and Bobby-Jo chatted about nothing. Even Joe-Bob seemed calmer. Everything was soothingly perfect, and everyone possessed some degree of contentment.  
  
Then of course, a scream of terror came from the hallway. Everyone turned.  
  
"I'll check it out." Bobby-Jo said calmly. "Oh my God!" Came her horrified shriek a second later. "Somebody's killed Phil!"  
  
"Who?" someone asked.  
  
"Phil! You know, our neighbor!"  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
"He's been stabbed! Somebody stabbed Phil!"  
  
"Don't look at me." Nny said defensively, "I was sitting right here the whole time."  
  
"Wait, where's Norman?" Donnie asked, Everyone put two and two together and rushed into the hallway. Sure enough, there was poor Phil, lying dead in a pool of blood. Renfield immediately bent down on the floor and began licking the blood up, eliciting a disgusted moan from *everyone.*  
  
Since all eyes were on this spectacle, no one was really looking at Joe-Bob. This is a shame, because anyone looking at him at the moment would be treated to a one-of-a-kind sight. Apparently, there's a certain expression you assume when your brain bites itself in half, and Joe-Bob was wearing it right then.  
  
"This time I think I am going to throw up..." Willard muttered, not loud enough for anyone else to hear. He slunk away from the carnage. The perpetrator, however, was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Wait a minute..." Nny said, peering around the corner. He moved closer and Norman leaped out, sporting a long navy blue dress and a grey haired wig. As if that wasn't scary enough, he had a crazed look in his eye and was brandishing a long butcher knife. With lightning reflexes, Nny brought his own knife up and blocked Norman's. Norman swung his arm around and Nny blocked him again. They went back and forth in this manner, sword fighting with twelve-inch blades. Those who weren't too distraught over Phil's death ate popcorn and watched. Finally, Nny buried his blade into the hilt of Norman's knife, taking a little skin off Norman's fingers as he did so. Norman's grip weakened, and the knife slid easily out of his hand and was sent flying across the room. Nny pressed his bowie knife against Norman's throat. "Knock that shit off!" he said, then returned the knife to his belt.  
  
Bobby-Jo looked at Norman with intense anger. "What did you do, you idiot!? What on earth were you thinking!?"  
  
"He was corrupting my baby." Norman maintained, in a wizened, maternal voice. Bobby-Jo had read about the nature of Norman's crimes in the newspaper, so she was aware of what was going on.  
  
"What?! How could you!?" Her eyes teared with sadness and rage, her arms shook. "You, horrible, evil- Oh well, I never liked Phil anyway." Everyone stared at her emotional 180. "Come on, let's get rid of my best friend's corpse before it stains the floor. What are you all staring at? Chop, chop!"  
  
"There's been quite enough of that already today." Someone said.  
  
"You know what I mean. Let's go!" She grabbed one of Phil's legs. Carrie edged away, more than a little freaked by Bobby-Jo's behavior. Willard went into his room and threw up. Nny, Renfield and Norman helped Bobby-Jo carry the corpse away, while Joe-Bob just stood there, listening to the sound of his mind cracking. And everyone lived happily ever after, until the next chapter. The end, (of this chapter.) 


	7. Look at all the Bodies!

Prepare thine stinking asses for A/Ns galore! ...I've been entertaining ideas of a sequel to all this. Now don't panic! This story still a while to go, but when it IS over, I'm thinking of doing another story in a very similar vein only with different characters and setting. Or maybe not. I don't like to write too much of the same kind of stuff, but if I keep some random elements involved, all will be well.   
  
I should mention that with the help of DonnieDarko.com, I figured out a way to link the movie to this storyline. Unfortunately, it contained spoilers galore, and if you haven't seen Donnie Darko, you don't want me to spoil it. So I gave an altered, simplified version of it. Also, if you're curious as to why I assume Donnie and Norman would get along, I implore you to look at these pictures:   
  
Donnie: ruinedeye.com/cd/cap29.jpg   
  
Norman: scarycinema.com/normanbates.jpg   
  
I rest my case.  
  
...WAIT! STOP!!! PREPARE FOR MASSIVE JOY! I've been drawing again, and this  
  
time I have a group shot of the ENTIRE CAST! You love it, yah?: deviantart.com/deviation/2265578 ...I recommend you view it in full size by clicking on the image. You get a lot more detail that way.  
  
Yeah, you'd like me to admit I don't own them, wouldn't you? You'd like that.  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
Seconds ago, the Raunchy Horse was filled with screams, blood and knife fights, but all Donnie heard was the chirruping noise of chipmunks and the rustle of wind in leaves. The otherwise harsh sunlight was filtered through the trees and transformed into a pleasant green glow. Small, harmless examples of life slithered, grew and hopped all around him.   
  
He was making the most of this pastoral scene by chucking rocks into a river again and again. In doing so, he severely traumatized a few brash young minnows that had been swimming dangerously close to him. Oblivious to the fish trauma he was causing, Donnie sat on the riverbank, thinking about time and the nature of the universe, but more frequently about sex.  
  
"...The tangent universe has collapsed..." ...Frank's Yoda-like wisdom echoed in his head. Exactly how he had gotten from Middlesex to the Raunchy Horse remained something of a mystery to him. He remembered all that had happened in Middlesex, much as he'd like to forget. So at least he knew a reason for leaving his hometown.   
  
He tried to reconstruct his recent past: He'd driven until he had to wonder why the police hadn't found him. By that time he'd become quite sleepy and was in an area he'd never even been close to familiar with, so he'd stopped at a gas station for coffee and noticed the Raunchy Horse brochure. He assumed that he'd come looking for a room after that, but to be perfectly honest, his mind was a complete blank.   
  
Though that memory gap was a little disturbing, at this point, he probably shouldn't have been surprised. He'd had the feeling something oogey was going on with the Raunchy Horse from almost day one. But he was feeling constantly disoriented, not even sure if he was alive or dead.   
  
Gradually, Donnie felt his face go slack. At the sound of muffled breathing and a tingling in his mind, he turned to see Frank next to him. Slowly, he turned his head back until it was facing the lake again and spoke.  
  
"Why am I here?" he asked.  
  
"The same reason any of us are here." whispered Frank.  
  
"What happened? Why am I so confused about everything? It's like I have two sets of memories."  
  
"Maybe you do." Donnie turned to Frank. "Blame Schrodinger's cat." Frank said. As the clatter of many footsteps blew through the woods towards, Donnie, Frank disappeared, leaving the poor boy to figure the rest out for himself.  
  
"Hey! Donnie! Doooon-ieeeeeee!" Came Bobby-Jo's high-pitched squeal. "Help us with this thing, would ya?"  
  
Sighing, his thoughts still elsewhere, Donnie stood and walked up to the little group. Bobby-Jo, Nny, Renfield and what looked like Norman in a dress were all carrying a long, nondescript roll of carpeting. It sagged in the middle, suggesting it was wrapped around something heavy. He grabbed one end of it and walked with the others as they moved to a particularly deep spot the ravine. A few moments passed in thoughtful silence.  
  
"Who was Schrodinger's cat?" Donnie asked, not addressing anyone in particular.  
  
"Schrodinger's cat?" Norman repeated. He was speaking in his normal voice, which probably meant he was back to his normal personality. Why he refused to take off the dress and wig, therefore, was anyone's guess. "Some scientist put his cat in a box with some poison. Then he asked a bunch of people whether they thought the cat was alive or dead. He theorized that, until the box was opened, the cat was both dead and alive. Infinite possibilities, see."  
  
"What did that prove?" Donnie asked.  
  
"That scientists have too much time on their hands." Nny muttered. Donnie mused over this new information as they approached the burial spot.  
  
"Say, what's in this carpet, anyway?" he asked.  
  
"Toast." the four others said at once. Sensing their obvious anxiousness, Donnie didn't pry any further, or attempt to call out the obvious lie. They buried the carpet beneath an avalanche of plants, which covered a significant part of the ravine. Afterwards, they headed for the house.   
  
Out of the blue, Donnie spoke again. "I think I'm in some alternate timeline."  
  
"That's nice." Bobby-Jo said, beyond being weirded out.  
  
...Meanwhile, back on the home front, Carrie was trying to shake the eerie feeling that had shadowed her since Phil's murder and Bobby-Jo's subsequent mood shift. She lurked around the hallways for a while, then came across Joe-Bob, sill standing motionless where he was last seen. She nearly walked past him, then paused and waved a hand in front of his face.   
  
"Mr... uh, Mr. Joe-Bob?" She asked, bewildered. She gave him a small shove. This prompted no reaction, but was kind of fun, so she shoved him a few more times, with no results. Eventually she shrugged and wandered into the main entrance, just in time to see the group of five walking up to the front door. Donnie and Norman were laughing and talking to each other.  
  
"...And so she says: 'Maybe you left it *on* the store!'" Donnie finished. The two of them laughed. It was almost eerie, seeing camaraderie between the two of them. It actually made Carrie feel a little concerned and on edge. Later, she tried talking it over with Bobby-Jo, who immediately made her wish she hadn't bothered.   
  
"Ooooh! Sounds like *some*one has a crush!" She twittered.  
  
"*Had* a crush. Now I'm just concerned. Why aren't you? I mean, the guy stabbed your neighbor to death four and a half hours ago!"  
  
"That's so adorable!" Bobby-Jo seemed unable to hear her. "You know, I remember my first boyfriend, I was seventeen and-"  
  
"*Listen!* All I want to know is, do you think I should try and interfere? I mean, a guy could become warped with friends like that."  
  
"Oh, you should never try and change the guy you like. I never try to interfere with Joe-Bob's life, and look how great our relationship is!"  
  
Carrie shot a glance over Bobby-Jo's shoulder to the still-unresponsive Joe-Bob standing in the hallway. "I'll keep that in mind." she replied.  
  
"Great! I'm going to try and get those bloodstains out, you just let me know if you want to talk some more." Bobby-Jo exited.  
  
Carrie sat there, thinking out loud. "Maybe I *could* drop a few hints..." she mused. An idea occurred to her. "Maybe I could even turn them against one another..." She lifted the chair Bobby-Jo had been sitting in a few feet off the ground, and smiled wickedly.  
  
...A few hours later, she succeeded in not only turning them against one another, she'd turned Nny against Donnie, Willard against Norman, and Renfield very passionately against her. Fights broke out, several pizza men were killed, and Donnie and Renfield joined Edgler in the hospital.  
  
"Look..." Bobby-Jo said, after the ambulances left, "You can't blame yourself. You had the best of intentions, things just got out of hand."  
  
"'Out of hand?' That's *one* way of putting it." Carrie said miserably. She and Bobby-Jo had begun the task of burying the bodies in the cellar. It was slow, disturbing work, and it was compounded by the fact that Carrie *was* indirectly responsible for the fates of the innocent pizza men they were burying. "I should never have gotten involved, something always goes wrong."  
  
"There, there," Bobby-Jo said, smearing cement over a pile of arms, "you've got to be optimistic. Look at me, my boyfriend hasn't moved all day, and you don't see me getting all despondent about it."  
  
"I guess that's true, sorta." Carrie replied.  
  
"Maybe instead of feeling bad about past mistakes, you should keep this in mind so you don't make future mistakes."  
  
"Yeah." Carrie's mood was still bleak, but she could already feel it lifting slightly. After a while she hummed to herself as she shoveled, scraped and smoothed.  
  
Meanwhile, upstairs, the three non-catatonic men that remained in the Raunchy Horse idled in the den.  
  
"Do you think we should help them?" Nny asked in an offhanded manner.  
  
Norman shook his head. "Burying bodies is women's work."  
  
Willard, still retaining a level of anger toward Norman, took this opportunity to speak. "Don't you think you s-should be helping them? After all, you work here."   
  
Nny couldn't help but notice Willard's previously paralyzing stutter had been softened. He supposed when a person was put in an environment where battles to the death were relatively common, social awkwardness became very secondary.  
  
Norman glared at Willard, but had to concede he was right. He left for the cellar, leaving Nny and Willard to each other. They glanced at each other, smiled awkwardly, then lapsed into silence. After a while, Nny broke it. "Does this house ever feel... weird to you?" Willard gave him a look that took the place of a response. "I mean for reasons besides the obvious." Nny clarified.  
  
"Weird? I don't think so..."  
  
"Almost as if it's, I guess, haunted?"  
  
"Haunted?"  
  
"Is there an echo in here?"  
  
"But that's just silly."  
  
  
  
"Yeah..." Nny looked at his fingers. "Yeah, I guess it is." Before the two of them had a chance to go quiet again, there was a knock on the door. Willard went to answer it, while Nny looked on from the den, now lost in thought. The door opened to reveal a chubby, mustached man wearing sunglasses and a police uniform. He flashed his badge as he spoke.  
  
"Excuse me sir, but I'm Officer Hodder, department of homicide. I'd like to ask you and the rest of the household as few questions." 


	8. Up All Night

Whee! The last chapter was kind of a pain, but I had bunches of fun with this one. Enjoy!  
  
I do not own them in a box, I do not own them with a fox, I don't own any of these dudes, I do not own them, you dumb boob.  
  
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As soon as Nny heard what was going on, he wisely moved towards the basement. While Willard attempted to stall the policeman, he went to warn the three down there. Unfortunately, his years of solitude combined with his lack of experience when dealing with the law left him ill-prepared to do so. Therefore, when his scream of, "Hey! Have you finished hiding those bodies yet?!?" echoed through the main entrance, Willard pretended not to hear it.  
  
"Could you please come back later, officer?" Willard asked uncertainly.  
  
" 'Fraid not. You folks live out here in the middle of nowhere and I can't be making trips back and forth like crazy." He sniffed and spit over his shoulder.  
  
"Um... it's just that the owner of the house is..." He glanced behind him to where Joe-Bob was still standing comatose. "...out. Really out."  
  
"Now look here mister, I just want to ask a few questions. And all this reluctance is a mite suspicious, if'n you were to ask me."  
  
Willard sighed and took one last glance over his shoulder. Nny was giving him a thumbs-up sign, which he took as a good indication. "Okay, okay, hang on a second..." He undid the latch and opened the door all the way. Officer Hodder walked in, glancing around and quickly noticing Joe-Bob. He raised a couple of eyebrows.  
  
"Uh, so what did you want to ask about?" Willard did his best to maneuver him towards the den. That proved to be a bad idea, since someone had left a few stray knives sitting in a corner there. Fortunately for Willard, Nny re-entered the den at that moment, followed by Carrie, Bobby-Jo and Norman. Someone had successfully gotten Norman to take off the dress, but he still refused to part with the wig.  
  
"Well," said Hodder, looking around and speaking with an air of solemnity while constantly tugging at his pants. "I don't want to alarm anyone, but a lot of people have been disappearing from this area." The others made a few unsuccessful attempts to look shocked.   
  
"Yes, I know, it's upsetting. First there was the murder at the movie theater-" He didn't notice Carrie shooting a 'told-you-so' look at Nny. "Then a man who lived a few miles from here was found in a ravine. And just a few hours ago, Tony's Pizza Place reported over a dozen missing delivery men." At that, everyone sort of averted their eyes. "Now someone from the high school has disappeared."  
  
"I didn't know about that." Said Norman. His eyes widened and he looked back at the officer. "By which I mean I didn't hear, you know, anything about it. On the radio. Where I heard about the other people, which is why I knew about *them.* From the radio. What?"  
  
"Riiiiight. Well, I came here to warn you all to be careful. Who knows what kind of sick, perverted psychopath could be capable of such things?" Nny turned away, looking offended.  
  
"That's why you came then? Just to... warn us?" Bobby-Jo asked, hopeful.  
  
Hodder dug a grimy legal pad out of his pocket. "That, and I have a few routine questions to ask you all. No big deal, just have to ask everyone in the area, you know." Everyone shifted uncomfortably, but tried to look casual. He squinted at the pad. "Have any of you noticed anything unusual lately?" He asked. Negative murmurs fluttered out from the other five.   
  
It was only natural that Socrates picked that moment to stick his head out of Willard's collar. Willard didn't seem to notice at first, but Carrie started to give him little nonverbal signals from across the room. The tricky part was, Officer Hodder was standing at and angle and wearing sunglasses, so Willard couldn't tell whether he'd seen it or not. He then began the difficult task of concealing the rat without attracting any attention to himself. First, he made a few awkward movements, intent upon guiding the rodent out of sight. When that didn't work, he gave a harsh whisper of "In!" That seemed to do the trick, Socrates ducked in and crawled through the inside of his sleeve, back down to his pocket. Unfortunately, it also made Hodder turn at the sound and give him an inquisitive look. He smiled nervously.  
  
"Do you have, uh, any other questions?" Bobby-Jo tried to turn his attention away.  
  
"Oh, yes..." Hodder looked back at the paper and continued. "Is there anyone else who lives here with you?"  
  
"Well..." Bobby-Jo said, "There's those people in the hospital..."  
  
"The hospital!? They weren't attacked by anyone, were they?"  
  
"NO! No, of course not, heh, they have..." she faltered a little.  
  
"Measles." Norman supplied. Unfortunately, at the same time, Nny had supplied "Syphilis" and Carrie had added "Cancer."  
  
"What about that man in the hallway?" Hodder asked, "What the heck does he have?"  
  
"Oh, that's very sad." Nny said, as if that were an explanation in itself.   
  
Hodder rubbed his eyes and continued. "...Anyway... Have you let anyone you didn't know stay here?"  
  
Bobby-Jo was confident as she answered. "Officer, I run a boarding house. Many people stay here, I don't ask questions."  
  
Her answer was probably the best one, but Hodder took it with suspicion. "Uh huh." he said, knowingly. He turned to Willard. "I thought you said the owner was out."  
  
While Hodder's back was turned, Norman raised his arm, which held a knife. Bobby-Jo grabbed it and shook her head sternly. Put on the spot, Willard began to stutter again, just a little. "He is, I mean, one of them is. Two people run the house." He gestured to Bobby-Jo with his head.  
  
The answer seemed to satisfy Hodder, and the others relaxed somewhat. "Is that all you needed to know, then?" Norman asked.  
  
Hodder turned to him. "Are you wearing a wig?"  
  
"...No." said Norman. A great deal of sweaty brown hair was now visibly sticking out the edges of his fake grey hair.  
  
There was a long moment of silence. "Riiight. Well, guess I'll be hitting that ol' dusty road..." Hodder made for the exit.  
  
"I'll walk you to the door..." Norman said, standing.  
  
...It took a few seconds for Bobby-Jo's eyes to widen in realization. "Oh no you won't!" she cried. But it was too late. The others rushed into the main entrance.  
  
"Oh, you idiot!" Carrie moaned.  
  
"Even *I* know you never kill a policeman!" said Nny.  
  
"Oh..." Willard staggered, but didn't throw up this time. Good for him.  
  
It was with an air of profound resentment that Bobby-Jo and Carrie hid this particular body. And before long, more policemen were drawn to the Raunchy Horse by the disappearance of Officer Hodder. Although their investigations never yielded fruit, the other members of the household were slowly growing angrier and angrier with Norman. It wasn't very surprising when he decided to pack up and move on, acting out of self-interest.  
  
The night after the morning Norman left, Nny went out for a walk. Most people go for walks at night when they can't sleep, but Nny was doing so for the opposite reason. He'd begun dozing a little, and he'd hoped the night air might invigorate him. Perhaps it was the tranquilizing effect of his exhaustion, or maybe the timeless docility of nature, but Nny began to feel very strange. "I seem to be... content." he said, almost with wonder. He knew this was merely a reprieve before the familiar application of pain, but he was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.  
  
It did cause him to look over his situation with new eyes, however. Reverend Meat was leaving him alone, which was always good. He didn't have contact with nearly as many people as he was otherwise forced to. True, he'd been spending more time than he might have otherwise liked with people. But at least there were only a few of them to deal with, no crowds in the middle of nowhere. And he liked the simple, natural beauty that surrounded him at the moment. Slowly but surely, he was beginning to feel more optimistic about where his life was going.  
  
And as Nny mused, there were other people *inside* the house who were still awake.  
  
Carrie was kneeling in front of her bed, looking up at a detailed crucifix affixed to the wall. Her hands were folded, and her eyes were closed. After a few moments, she finished and got up. She then paced around the room for a while. Her room looked fairly unremarkable- a bed, a desk, a dresser, a lamp. It was sparsely decorated, but there were one or two personal touches visible. Still, it wasn't a very stimulating environment, and she started to grow bored and restless. She levitated a few pens and papers, and other small objects, floating them around the room at increasing speed. Eventually she decided to go down to the den, maybe watch some TV, until she felt relaxed enough to sleep.  
  
However, she wasn't the only one who'd decided to go downstairs. Willard was already seated in a chair by the window, deep in thought. He didn't seem to notice when she entered, so she relaxed and sat down on the couch, flipping on the television. At the sound of it going on, Willard turned. They smiled politely and greeted each other, then returned to their previous diversions.  
  
It seemed the Raunchy Horse was fated to a night of activity. Because at that moment an investigative reporter, drawn by the suspicion that was now beginning to surround the building, was sneaking around outside. He had parked a considerable distance away, to ensure some degree of stealth. However, this meant he had to go through a small section of the woods to reach the house itself. Making as little noise as possible, he took high, careful steps, crunching leaves quietly underfoot. To avoid branches, he walked slightly crouched, in classic sneaking position, camera clutched to his chest. Being very dark and unobtrusive, Nny was blending in almost perfectly with the night scene, so the reporter didn't notice him until they were almost touching. Nny noticed the reporter, however.  
  
"What exactly are you doing here?" he asked. His voice wasn't particularly loud, but it broke the almost perfect silence, and the reporter jumped.  
  
Recovering his dignity as quickly as possible, the reporter turned to Nny. "Oh, hi there!" He quickly snapped a picture. "Are you one of the members of the, uh, household here?"  
  
"Please don't do that." Nny indicated the camera, blinking away the afterimage.  
  
"Hey relax, man. Just looking for a story. What do you think happened to the policeman that came here?"  
  
Nny turned away. "I don't know. And I think you would be well advised to go away right now, you're beginning to spoil my good mood."  
  
"There are rumors that someone living here murdered him, there's even talk of connections to the wave of killings that have been plaguing this area recently. What do you have to say about that?" He held out a microcassette recorder.  
  
Nny's left eye twitched. "I'd say that you're very judgmental and intrusive."  
  
"It's my job to be."  
  
"I really think you should leave now, you don't want the kind of story you'll find here." Nny began walking back to the house, eager to get away from this man without incident.  
  
That was clearly not to be however, the man's journalistic curiosity was excited by Nny's words. He followed after him, calling for him to slow down. Nny was able to move through the thick plant life with more ease, so it wasn't until they exited the forest and had almost reached the house itself that the reporter caught up with him.  
  
"Hey! Look, I just want to ask a couple questions. Tell you what, there's a twenty in it for ya if you cooperate. What d'ya say?"  
  
That was too much for Nny. "Do you really think my need for privacy can be overridden by a little currency?" He said, turning. "Not everything can be bought and sold, but try telling *that* to anyone!"  
  
Now the reporter was getting a little on edge. Self-preservation was finally overpowering his intrigue. "See, look, I can tell I came at a bad time..." he began backing away.  
  
But Nny was on a rant, and nothing could stop him now. "Oh, stay!" he threw his arms in the air. "I'm sure there's some tragedy here that you haven't yet recorded! Some sick act you can play back to the great unwashed so they can grunt and drool and pretend they're above it all!"  
  
"Really, I can see I've overstepped my boundaries..." he moved away from Nny, towards the house. "Look, I'll leave right now! Just don't do anything crazy!"  
  
"Crazy!?" Nny's eyes bulged. "You want to see *crazy?!*"  
  
"No! Dear God, no!"  
  
...Willard was staring peacefully out the window, lulled into a comfortable, thoughtful trance by the soft noises of the television and the lateness of the hour. Then the bleeding body of the reporter was flung against the window, hard enough to crack the glass.  
  
"Jesus!" Willard screamed, jumping backwards and out of the seat. The reporter moved his lips soundlessly, a look of horror on his face. A gloved hand grabbed him by the cuff of his shirt and dragged him out of Willard's field of vision. He left bloody handprints as he grabbed at the window.  
  
"Jesus." Carrie agreed. Coming from her it almost sounded like a prayer. Whether it was the impact on the glass or Willard's scream that drew her attention, she had clearly seen most of it. The sound of a car skidding came from the TV, causing her to jump again. She shuddered and clicked it off.  
  
"I can't live like this..." Willard said. "I may have done a few bad things in my life, but this..." He swallowed hard.  
  
"I know what you mean. I guess I shouldn't judge but... you'd think they could go a day or two without killing someone!"  
  
"I just don't see how they can kill *innocent* bystanders, who've never done anything to them."  
  
"I agree. Anyone you murder should have it coming to them."  
  
"Those poor pizza guys..."  
  
They shared a moment of silence for all the nameless pizza guys who'd met their end at the Raunchy Horse. Then they looked at each other and smiled.  
  
...The next morning found Nny in a fairly good mood. When Bobby-Jo came downstairs to make coffee, he'd already prepared some, and was sitting at the table, drinking a cupful of it.  
  
"Well, you certainly look chipper this morning!"  
  
"Please don't say chipper. It's probably the caffeine, I don't usually drink coffee."  
  
"Still, it's nice to see you smiling, for once." She glanced around and then looked at her watch, it was much later than she had thought. "Where's Carrie and Willard?"  
  
"Oh, they're gone." Nny took another sip of coffee.  
  
"*What!?*" Bobby-Jo cried.  
  
"Yes. Last night they stayed up talking, and for some bizarre reason, they fell in love. Then they just ran off." Nny shrugged. "Anyway, I'm going for a walk. See you later."  
  
Bobby-Jo remained still for a moment, a look of shock on her face. Minutes later, she could only think of one thing to say. "He's like, thirty! Eww!"  
  
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Eheheh, yeah. Well, since when does age difference even FACTOR into fanfiction? Anyway, stay tuned for the epilogue, as well as information about a sequel. 


	9. Epilouge

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"  
  
"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Where exactly are you taking him, anyway?"  
  
Bobby-Jo looked at Joe-Bob, currently popped up on a dolly, still frozen in place. "I have a friend who knows a lot about catatonics, he should be fine in a few months."  
  
"When are you coming back?" Nny asked  
  
"I'm not sure if I am."  
  
"I'll look after the place."  
  
Bobby-Jo smiled. "I know you will. I'll miss you a whole lot, Nny." Without warning, she reached out and gave him a crushing hug. Nny's eyes widened and he threw his arms back.  
  
"Um... yes. No hugging, please."  
  
"Sorry." Bobby-Jo threw one last titanic smile at the Raunchy Horse, then wheeled her boyfriend to her car and drove off.  
  
Nny stood on the threshold of the Raunchy Horse's front door for a while, then went back inside. He walked around a while, getting a feel for what it was like empty. Lots of space, comfortable, no people around... He could be almost happy here. He wasn't too worried about the police anymore, he suspected with him as the sole occupant of the house they'd loose interest quickly. And the uneasy feeling he'd originally harbored was starting to leave him.  
  
Still not quite at home with the silence yet, he turned on the television in the den. A news program came on, showing a bubbleheaded blonde anchor and a picture of a burning hospital. "...Suspicion of arson." The anchor said. "This possibility was compounded by the disappearance of three patients." The hospital was replaced by pictures of Edgler, Donnie and Renfield. Nny raised an eyebrow. "If you have any information as to the whereabouts of these men, please contact-" He turned the TV off.  
  
"You're making some screwed-up friends there, Johnny-boy." A ficus plant near him said.  
  
Nny smiled. "Judge a man by the company he keeps."  
  
Then a bunch of zombies burst out from the cellar.   
  
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That's a wrap, people! Keep watching this board for the sequel, "Patchwork Psyche," which will feature a whole NEW nest of famous loonies trapped in a house together! 


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